The movie opens in a Swiss hotel in the 1880s, with young Randall emerging from his room and committing acts that justify Oscar Wilde's recommendation that children should be struck regularly like gongs.
Then we are introduced to some tangled social relationships involving mainly Cybill Shepherd as Daisy and Barry Brown as a fellow American who wants to be her suitor. They meet in Vevey, Switzerland, and again in Rome. Brown discovers that established European and ex-pat American society considers Daisy reckless in that she waltzes around in public with men on her arm -- sometimes arms -- and is rumored to have been "intimate" with the family courtier. In other words, she'd defying all these mores with her American willfulness.
Brown is caught between two worlds and is only willing to remain in this conflict because of his love for Daisy. But even he, an American, is surprised and disappointed when Daisy begins seeing an Italian and smooching him under her parasol. In any case, she solves the problem by malaria ex machina.
I understand that Henry James' novella was a slight work and difficult to transpose to the screen. I never read it myself. But it's all laid out in plain celluloid in this adaptation. There are no directorial fireworks. None at all. It's done in the classic style that director Bogdanovitch feels comfortable with. Maybe he uses traditional techniques a bit too much. There are innumerable close ups, more than would ever appear in something by John Ford, Howard Hawks, or Orson Welles. And when a character is about to project some important communication, the camera moves in meaningfully, just so we get the point. The scene in which Brown learns of Daisy's death is very decorously handled though, shot through a lace curtain and rendered in barely audible Italian.
But the film has a fundamental problem. What makes Daisy so attractive? Of course Cybill Shepherd is beautiful but that's about it. She prattles on breathlessly like a bipolar in a manic episode. She taunts Brown maliciously. She willingly and knowingly violates the local conventions. That's not American independence. That's self indulgence. Nor does she show any interest in historical structures or art or, indeed, anything else that doesn't impact her body sheath.
Watching it, I sensed a painful intensity behind the production, as of trying too hard, but I may be wrong.
Then we are introduced to some tangled social relationships involving mainly Cybill Shepherd as Daisy and Barry Brown as a fellow American who wants to be her suitor. They meet in Vevey, Switzerland, and again in Rome. Brown discovers that established European and ex-pat American society considers Daisy reckless in that she waltzes around in public with men on her arm -- sometimes arms -- and is rumored to have been "intimate" with the family courtier. In other words, she'd defying all these mores with her American willfulness.
Brown is caught between two worlds and is only willing to remain in this conflict because of his love for Daisy. But even he, an American, is surprised and disappointed when Daisy begins seeing an Italian and smooching him under her parasol. In any case, she solves the problem by malaria ex machina.
I understand that Henry James' novella was a slight work and difficult to transpose to the screen. I never read it myself. But it's all laid out in plain celluloid in this adaptation. There are no directorial fireworks. None at all. It's done in the classic style that director Bogdanovitch feels comfortable with. Maybe he uses traditional techniques a bit too much. There are innumerable close ups, more than would ever appear in something by John Ford, Howard Hawks, or Orson Welles. And when a character is about to project some important communication, the camera moves in meaningfully, just so we get the point. The scene in which Brown learns of Daisy's death is very decorously handled though, shot through a lace curtain and rendered in barely audible Italian.
But the film has a fundamental problem. What makes Daisy so attractive? Of course Cybill Shepherd is beautiful but that's about it. She prattles on breathlessly like a bipolar in a manic episode. She taunts Brown maliciously. She willingly and knowingly violates the local conventions. That's not American independence. That's self indulgence. Nor does she show any interest in historical structures or art or, indeed, anything else that doesn't impact her body sheath.
Watching it, I sensed a painful intensity behind the production, as of trying too hard, but I may be wrong.